


Way Too Sober

by Waldo



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e16 Shuttlepod One, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-27
Updated: 2002-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/pseuds/Waldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of "Shuttlepod One" are behind them, but not forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way Too Sober

 

They were in the lounge, enjoying a bottle of Klee'a'sa, an alcoholic drink they'd acquired from some very grateful traders who'd needed some medical help. Phlox had accepted the drink in the spirit in which it had been given, but once the traders were on their way he analyzed it and discovered that it was not suitable for Denobulan consumption. So he'd given it to the Captain. The captain in turn, had invited his officers to share it with him after the movie that night.

They were discovering that a little went a long a way, and even half way through the small bottle they all found themselves laughing at things that weren't all that funny. They'd turned out the lights in the lounge about half an hour ago to watch the stars and now Travis was regaling everyone with another Boomer ghost story.

"Only when they were finally found - some eighteen years after the energy reserve had run out, they were found frozen, naked and in quite the compromising position… if ya know what I mean…” Travis' eyebrows went up in the dim light. "I guess they wanted to go out with a bang."

Trip laughed - only Boomers would have x-rated ghost stories. He looked over as Malcolm jostled him from where the two of them sat on the floor in front of the couch.

"'Scuse me," Malcolm said as he got up and stumbled to the door quickly.

Trip caught sight of Malcolm's face and even in the dim light could tell he wasn't doing so well. "Malcolm?" Trip looked over at Archer who shrugged. None of the others seemed to be having a hard time handling the alien drink, but Malcolm seemed pretty ill at ease, if not downright ill.

Trip got up and ran out after him.

He actually overshot his mark as he stumble-sprinted out of the lounge. Malcolm was only about five meters away from the lounge door, leaning on the wall, gulping air.

"Malcolm?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. What's goin' on?" Trip was suddenly very sober as he looked into Malcolm's eyes.

Malcolm shook his head. "I didn't mean to concern anyone. I just… It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Trip thought about letting him off the hook, but then decided better of it. Malcolm had once admitted to spending time 'figuring him out' - it was the least he could to return the favor. "Like hell," he said abruptly. "Wanna take a walk or something?"

Malcolm slumped against the wall a little. "Go back and have fun with the captain. I didn't mean to disrupt things."

Trip gave him a tight grin. "I suspect that you and I are way too sober right now to fit in, in that room. Come take a walk with me."

Malcolm finally nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. "Very well."

They wandered the halls for over an hour, Malcolm's eyes on the deck in front of him as if he were afraid that the plating would rear up and trip him if he looked away. Trip hovered nearby, shocking his friend with his silent presence. Malcolm hadn't been aware that Trip was constitutionally capable of being so quiet for so long. They eventually ended up in front of Trip's quarters. Trip stopped Malcolm with a hand on his shoulder, "Can I talk you into coming in to talk for a little bit?"

Malcolm thought for a long minute before finally nodding.

Trip pulled a couple glasses off a shelf and filled them from the bathroom sink. "Here, even as sober as we feel right now, tomorrow's gonna suck if we're dehydrated."

Malcolm accepted the glass and the seat Trip waved him into.

Trip fell onto the bed, booted feet on top of the blankets. "So, what spooked you back in the lounge? I know it wasn't Travis' stupid teen-age ghost story."

Malcolm leaned forward, the glass dangling between his knees. "Actually, tangentially, it was."

Trip looked askance at him, but remained quiet.

"As he was telling that story, I was very suddenly reminded of the last time I got this drunk." He looked around the room, trying not to make eye contract with Trip. After a long, pregnant pause he finally added, "I was suddenly very sober… and very cold."

Trip repressed a sympathetic shiver. Instead he reached around to put his glass on his desk and sat up to face Malcolm. He took Malcolm's glass and set it with his own before taking both of Malcolm's hands in his. "We're okay. We're home and we're safe."

Malcolm's head dropped even further, "I know. I'm sorry."

Trip reached up and gently stroked Malcolm's cheek with his thumb. "It's okay. I still have nightmares once in a while. It was very, very scary out there."

Malcolm nodded slowly.

"Still cold?" Trip asked.

"I know it's not real," Malcolm muttered.

Off duty, Malcolm was in a lightweight cotton shirt and jeans. Trip got up and rummaged around in his closet until he found a plain navy blue sweatshirt. "Here."

Malcolm glanced up, confusion on his face.

"Come on, take it. As we were so clearly reminded by Phlox after that little adventure, alcohol lowers blood temperature. You might actually be a little cold. Put it on." He held the sweatshirt out again.

Malcolm sighed, but took it and shrugged into it. "Thank you."

"No trouble." He sat back down across from Malcolm. “Better?"

Malcolm nodded, toying with the overly long sleeves, seemingly gathering his thoughts and/or his courage to say something. Trip handed him back his water glass as he thought. Finally, "You said you still have nightmares?"

Trip nodded.

"What do you do?" Malcolm asked softly.

"Well, immediately - I get up, wash my face off, turn the thermostat up a couple of degrees and grab an extra blanket. The next day, I try and find someone to talk to. The captain or Phlox. Sometimes I comm home. Talk to my mom." Trip wondered why he hadn't thought to see if Malcolm still had nightmares too. He couldn't decide if it was because he assumed that he did and that he was handling them or because he assumed that he didn’t, that death really didn't frighten Malcolm despite his words on the shuttlepod. "What do you do?" he asked gently.

Malcolm sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Try not to go back to sleep, mostly. If I don't sleep the nightmares can't come back. And then usually the next night I'm so tired I don't dream. Or if I do, I don't remember it."

Trip nodded. Mr. Self-Sufficient would never think of finding someone to talk to. "I'll make you a deal," he said, reaching over to take Malcolm's hands again. "I'll tell you about my nightmares if you promise to tell me about yours. I was there with you, there's nothing you could tell me that'll put me off."

"Trip, I appreciate the gesture, but…" he wasn't sure how to explain that he'd never been able to talk about his dreams and fears as openly as Trip was asking him to. And that he was desperately afraid to make this promise and then let Trip down. He knew that Trip was offering up his own weaknesses to try and help him, but he wasn't sure that he could reciprocate.

"Just try, okay?" Trip pressed. "I know it's been almost a year, but in some ways we're still going through those two hellish days together. One of the things Phlox told me was that the reason this stays with us so much is that we stared certain death in the face for more than forty-eight hours. It's a shock to our adrenaline system when we think we're gonna get shot in phase pistol battle or when we're staring down the torpedo tubes of a Klingon vessel. But we wrote ourselves off as dead for more than two days and that’s the kind of shock our brains can't just shrug off."

Malcolm nodded. He was surprised that Trip was willing to admit that despite all his optimistic words in the shuttlepod, he'd believed them to be dead too. It occurred to Malcolm that perhaps Trip had rallied against his pessimism so much because he was afraid that he would see the same fear in Trip's eyes as Trip had apparently seen in his own.

Trip tilted his head and looked at him imploringly, "Try to talk to me? Please? I'm told I'm a pretty fair listener and I have the unique experience of knowing exactly what you're talking about in this situation."

Before he realized it, Malcolm was nodding. "I'll try."

Trip came forward and slipped his arms around Malcolm's waist and gave him a warm, supportive hug. "Good enough."


End file.
